


Agony's End

by wearingmywings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearingmywings/pseuds/wearingmywings
Summary: A Djinn forces Dean and Castiel to relive things they've hidden from each other, and it takes a lot of strength for them to overcome the pain they bring. But they do, together.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 126
Kudos: 993
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Agony's End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is my story for the DeanCas Reversebang 2020. I participated as a pinch-hit author and had the absolute joy of working with [Liz Lee](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/). I cannot begin to describe how wonderful it was to work with her. She's incredibly fun and lovely and supportive. She cheered me on and we really fed off of each other's creativity, and it was a beautiful experience. Thank you for loving this story I wrote for you, and thank you for becoming my friend.<3 
> 
> No thank of my story would be complete without a huge thank you to [museaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway), because she as always is the beta-reader, master mind and a big support for me whenever I write. None of my stories would be what they are without you. Ily my friend. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! This was made with a ton of love and I hear whispers there might be an art epilogue for this!

It’s past seven in the evening, cold November rain cutting into their faces like ice shards as they make their way from the car to the abandoned warehouse. Dean pockets the vial of lamb blood while Cas hides the blade in his coat. 

They walk slowly, hyper aware of their surroundings in case their intel was wrong, and there is more than one Djinn working alone. The hope to find the missing teenage boy alive pushes them forward in the unforgiving weather, and soon enough they reach an iron door with rust creeping in around the edges. 

Dean looks at Cas, whose hand is poised on the dagger’s handle in his coat, and after a nod slowly pulls the door open. After a protesting squeak from the hinges they’re inside, stepping around broken glass and dented cans, the smell of moldy beer hanging thickly. They make their way through a small maze of collapsing shelves, full of outdated canned food, and pieces of trash on the ground. 

A whimper sets them on high alert. Dean readies his own dagger. A nod from Cas and they’re off, split and each following one wall until they both reach a new room. There's the boy, slumped on a chair in the middle. A dirty naked lightbulb swings above him, and around him an intricate floral pattern is drawn on the floor in blood.

Dean rushes forward to check the boy’s pulse while Cas walks the perimeter of the room. Dean feels a fluttery pulse under his fingertips before cutting the rough ropes around the boy’s skinny wrists. He can’t see any wounds, but there’s no time to lose. As he searches for a needle, he finds a small drop of blood on the boy’s forearm and wipes it away. The tiny hole under it bleeds again immediately, and Dean feels ice cold.

“Cas, this needle was _just_ pulled out. He’s still here.”

Cas nods and pulls out the blade, eyes on the only exit. Someone taps on Dean’s shoulder. He drops the bandage he just pulled out, rises to his full height, and turns around.

“Good evening,” the Djinn says. His tattoos are golden, swirling with black and red, and glowing. “I wondered when you were coming.”

“Djinn,” Dean spits, and steps between the monster and the boy. 

A flurry of movement and a wet tearing noise, and then Cas’ dagger is sticking out of the Djinn’s chest. The Djinn turns to grin at Cas before pulling it out and dropping it. 

“I don’t think you’re familiar with my kind,” the Djinn says. He circles Dean and eyes Cas. “I know yours.” He leers at Dean, a smile on his face as he lets his eyes drift from Dean’s scuffed boots to his wet hair. 

“And,” the Djinn continues as he turns to Cas, “you’re basically human too. The angels I’ve met _radiated_ power, but you...you radiate as much as an old microwave. What happened there?”

“Choices were made,” Cas growls. “And I don’t think they’re your concern.”

The Djinn nods. “You might think that to be the truth, but you’re wrong. I’ve conversed more with your kind than you know. I have a certain skill set that has been valued greatly.”

“You want to tell us, or are you gonna bore us to death instead?” Dean is tense, combing his brain for stray lore on why and how this Djinn is different. 

“I think it might be best to simply...show you.” 

The Djinn looks at Dean, then at Cas, and snaps his fingers.

*

It’s pitch black. Dean thinks he’s alone until he turns around and sees Cas.

“What’s happening?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know. The blade should have killed him. I’ve never read anything about other kinds of Djinns.”

“Shit,” Dean says and walks ten paces, but finds nothing but black. “There’s nothing,” he shouts to Cas over his shoulder.

“Why are you yelling?” Cas asks, directly behind him, and Dean flinches. 

“Jesus. I don’t know what's—”

The floor rumbles. There’s a deafening thunder and then a crack, splitting the ground and racing toward them. Cas grabs Dean and stands so close Dean can smell him, wet cotton and the aftershave he had borrowed for the witness interviews hours earlier. The crack runs past them, circles back and closes in a circle around their feet. 

Then they fall.

Hours seem to pass, wind whipping past them as they’re fully disoriented in the darkness. Suddenly, it stops. They’re standing beside each other again. 

“Bring him back,” Dean says, but it’s not Dean. It’s another Dean, the one standing ten feet from them. He’s looking at the sky, his split lip shiny with spit, and his eyes are closed. A second later he’s destroying a wood sign on a door next to him that’s levitating, like it’s there to be punched. Blood runs over his hand and drips on the floor. 

“Dean-” Cas says and Dean can feel him step closer, but then the scene changes. There’s fire, and there’s Sam. His hand is on the other Dean’s shoulder, gripping tightly, Jack at Sam’s side. A pyre is in front of them, and Dean feels the past pain of this loss flare up in his chest. 

“This was after Lucifer killed me,” Cas says.

Dean nods. Past-Dean cries. He screams at the pyre, curses and yells and stops and starts all over again. Sam has his arm around him. Jack is waiting in the back, unobtrusive, but Dean _remembers_ , remembers the pain and wanting to see him burn instead of Cas.

Dean takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and when he opens them again, the pyre is gone. He thinks he and Cas are alone until they hear a yell. They turn and see another Dean in sweat-soaked pajamas that cling to his chest while he’s writhing in his bed in the bunker. 

“Dean.” 

At first Dean thinks Cas said it, and he did, but it’s a past Cas. He’s across from Dean, sitting on a loveseat with a pattern so ugly it has to be in a motel. His eyes are closed, hands balled into fists and he’s grimacing. On the other side, Dean continues yelling wordlessly. Tears run down his face and mix with the sweat.

“This was after I left. After our fight,” the Cas next to him says. Dean looks at him from the side, sees the defeated look on his face as he watches the scene unfold. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Cas continues. “I don’t know if you knew this, but sometimes when you feel very strongly, I feel it too. I don’t know if it’s the bond your soul has to my grace, or if you're subconsciously praying to me because your mind perceives me as safe, but it happens. That night was about three days after I left the bunker. I had just sat down to message Sam when I felt it.”

Cas swallows and looks to the floor. “You were dreaming of Hell. Alistair was there, and you felt helpless, but I never came, so you—”

The sleeping Dean screams as if in unbearable pain, and even though he doesn’t remember this, the present Dean tenses against the waves of nausea hitting him over Cas’ description. 

The screaming stops for a beat. The sheets around Dean are visibly damp, framing his heaving chest. “Cas,” he whispers. “Cas, help. Please help. Cas, I….Cas, Cas, _Cas_.”

A voice, so deep Dean can feel the vibrations in his skull, speaks up. “And now,” the Djinn says, “for the grand finale.”

The ground vanishes below their feet and they’re falling again, Cas holding onto Dean tightly. Suddenly they’re standing, this time in a brightly lit warehouse. Dean feels Cas tense next to him immediately, and eyes him briefly before taking in their surroundings. He takes a step, Cas’ tense hand still wound around his upper arm, and his foot makes a wet noise as it connects with the ground. He looks down and sees a pool of blood. It grows as he stares, and out of nowhere there’s _him_ , lying on the floor and bleeding out from a gaping chest wound. 

Dean stumbles backward into Cas. He looks further and sees more of himself dead and beaten on the floor, murdered in efficient or cruel ways over and over. Endless amounts of dead bodies. 

“Well done, Castiel.” 

Dean whips around and he sees Naomi standing a few feet from him, her hand on Cas’ shoulder while he’s wiping blood off his angel blade. His eyes look empty. He pockets the weapon. 

“Though it took many tries, I’m finally certain you will complete your task. Dean Winchester must die, and you will be the one to execute it.” Her voice is cruel, cold and sharp. The Cas squatting next to her raises to full height and nods briefly. 

The warm hand around Dean’s arm disappears. He turns around and catches a glimpse of Cas’ pale face before Cas throws up. He’s hunched over, fingers digging into his thighs with sweat dripping down his face. Dean hurries over, puts an arm around his shoulder and holds him through the next wave of nausea. After a few minutes it’s over, the sick on the ground disappears and they both sink to the floor. The warehouse is still around them. Dean has to look away. Cas is breathing heavily and Dean holds him, unsure if he’s doing enough. 

“We need to get out of here,” Cas rasps, and Dean nods. 

“Any idea how?”

“My grace is low, but I’ll try. It should be enough to weaken the Djinn so the blade kills him.” 

“Be careful,” Dean says as Cas stands up, but Cas ignores him. He touches his own chest, fingers spread over his heart before opening his arms wide, eyes closed and lips moving silently. 

A sudden screech has Dean covering his ears, and he realizes Cas is speaking with his true voice. Then, Dean can see Cas’ grace, swirling brightly and ice-blue in front of them, shaping and bending with every word Cas speaks. It glows, dims and rises higher before being released upwards, spreading into a thin blanket of brightness until everything explodes. 

*

Dean comes to on the cold warehouse floor. He can’t see, but quickly realizes Cas is half on top of him, his coat spread over his head. Dean moves carefully to assess any new injuries but finds none. Endless glass shards on the floor around them reflect the moonlight streaming in through the collapsed ceiling. Cas stirs and Dean helps him to his feet. Together they turn around and face the Djinn who’s pressing a hand to a deep gash on his throat. 

“You abomination,” he spits, golden eyes focused on Cas like a hawk. “I hope you get what you deserve. You will be punished for your choices, a _human-_ ”

Dean throws the second lamb blood-drenched dagger, putting his full weight behind it, and watches it bury itself in the Djinn’s chest. The monster’s speech stops abruptly. He chokes and screams and smokes and burns and then there’s silence. 

“Let’s go back,” Cas says. 

Dean looks up. Cas looks exhausted, his hair matted down with sweat and dirt, pain written on his face clear as day. Dean nods. 

They carry the boy to the car and drive him to the hospital. After a crying mother in their arms and a pat on the shoulder from the officer they’re heading to the motel. The drive is quiet. Cas is wringing his hands in his lap and during almost silent moments, where only the blinker’s _tickticktick_ is breaking the stillness, Dean can hear his uneven breathing. The dark corn fields fly past them as Dean tries to find something, anything, to say. The traumas they just had to relive, seeing the physical embodiment of what their pain in these moments looked like—he doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. 

From the corner of his eye, Dean sees Cas run his hand over his face roughly. He collects a monumental amount of bravery and slowly lays his hand on Cas’ forearm while continuing to watch the road. He can feel Cas’ muscles tense briefly before relaxing again. They drive in silence. 

*

Cas drops the duffel on the floor and sits with a sigh on the bed closest to the door. He rubs a hand over his face, his back hunched and his jaw set tightly. Dean watches him before toeing off his dirty boots and hanging his soaked jacket on the back of a chair. He winces and notices a deep gash on his left forearm, but his gaze is drawn back to Cas sitting with the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“Gimme a sec,” Dean mumbles, but Cas doesn't look up. Dean takes the first-aid kit with him into the bathroom and closes the door with a soft click. The bright yellow shower curtain screams at him. He hurries, tears open an elastic bandage and wraps it around his arm quickly. Teeth gritted against the pain, he swallows two tylenol dry. The sink handle is rusty, the water ice cold and almost painful on his skin. He dries off with a scratchy towel and heads into the room again.

Cas is still sitting in the same position. Dean walks over and lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

Cas doesn’t react. Dean kneels in front of him, laying a hand on Cas’ wrist. His face is still covered by his hands, but Dean doesn’t try to pull them away. They just sit there. Dean’s bad knee starts to hurt, but he ignores it. The wound on his forearm stings, and he ignores it. Then, Cas lets his hands sink.

“There you are,” Dean murmurs. 

Cas looks at him, his eyelashes clumped together and eyes red. There’s a gash over his right eyebrow, but it’s not important for now. 

“Let’s get you out of this coat,” Dean says, and slowly stands up. His knee pops and he grimaces. He holds a hand out to Cas and wiggles his fingers. “You’re all wet. You’re gonna get cold and then sick.”

“That’s not how it works,” Cas says but he takes Dean’s hand anyway and gets up. They’re standing too close together, Dean feels Cas’ breath on his cheek and takes a half step back. Cas shrugs off the coat, then the jacket, but his hands tremble too much to take off his tie. Dean steps forward again, carefully undoes the knot and lets the silk slip through his fingers. He drops it on the floor and traces his eyes across Cas’ face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Cas looks up at him. 

“Why?”

“I didn’t know. I could have helped.”

Cas shakes his head. “You couldn’t have. It was my choice to not tell you.”

“We could’ve made a plan. Fought Naomi. There must’ve been something—”

“ _Dean._ ” Cas looks at him with hurt and defeat. Dean despises the look on his face.

“Naomi was threatening you. She was threatening Sam. I couldn’t tell you what she was doing, I didn’t remember until the crypt.” Cas looks past Dean and out of the window, rain splashing against the glass. He meets Dean’s eyes again. “I was ready to take the hurt if it meant you and Sam were safe. I thought I could carry it. Then she made me kill you.” 

He doesn’t stutter when he says it, but his voice wavers. Dean sees the shaking in his hands return, so he talks about something that he’s kept hidden away for a long time. 

“I dreamed of you,” Dean says. “Almost every night after you left. And every night after you died. If you ever put yourself in harm’s way again because you think you’re saving me, or Sam, then please...” Dean closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Please don’t. I can’t do this again.” 

Cas looks at him, really looks at him. The warm bedside lamp makes his eyes more cerulean than their usual ocean blue, and Dean gets lost in them for a beat. He exhales loudly and sits on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Cas joins him. 

“I need a nap or something,” Dean mumbles after a moment and scoots back on the bed, lies down fully and closes his eyes. He stretches until he feels his knee pop and his toes curl. His shirt rides up his stomach, but he doesn’t care. He feels the bed dip and opens one eye to see Cas lying down next to him. Dean watches him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, sees him struggle to fold it tight enough but lets him try until he succeeds. 

The motel’s clock ticks. Cars drive by, splashing through puddles, and it's almost dark as it continues to rain. The musty smell of the checkered sheets and the slight cold of the room are the things on Dean’s mind, until it gets warmer. 

Dean turns his head, and Cas is looking at him, too. He’s drifted closer, infinitesimally so, but it’s enough.

“C’mere,” Dean says, propping himself up on his right arm and making a come-hither motion with his left hand. Cas moves towards him and before Dean knows what’s happening, he has two armfuls of depowered angel. He holds on for as long as Cas needs him to, but doesn’t let go after. He needs this himself right now, so he basks in the warmth and solidness. 

After a small forever, Dean pulls back slowly, far enough that Cas rests his forearm on the bed right behind him. They’re close. Dean’s world suddenly consists of only Cas; he takes up his entire field of view, the expensive aftershave the only thing he can smell, the warmth the only thing his nerves are telling him about. His eyes flick to Cas’ lips for only a moment, but he feels panic rise within him when he realizes that Cas _noticed_. 

The fear must show on his face, because Cas doesn’t close the gap. He hovers right there though, close enough that his nose bumps Dean’s, but slides his hand into Dean’s hair briefly. Strong fingers grab onto the strands for a moment that sends fire down Dean’s belly before moving on, gliding over his neck and down his shoulder, caressing the skin where his sleeve ends before moving on. It’s an almost itchy kind of softness when Cas reaches the inside of Dean’s elbow, goes further and—

Right over the gash in his forearm. Dean grits his teeth and Cas pulls back hastily. 

“Dean?”

Dean lifts his arm and sees the bandage to be dark and glistening. Cas turns on the second bedside lamp and Dean’s annoyed seeing the fully soaked bandage.

“You _are_ hurt! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cas flits around the room, collecting the first-aid kit, a bottle of water and a small towel. 

“Why didn’t you treat this properly when we came back?” He peels the bandage off carefully, and the gash looks a lot more gnarly now than it did half an hour ago. 

“Priorities,” Dean mumbles, and Cas rolls his eyes at that. 

“This needs to be cleaned,” he says and Dean nods. They get up, when Cas stops him. “Do you need to go to a hospital? Do you have your tetanus shot?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. “I’m a _hunter_ , Cas, crawling around and getting hurt by dirty stuff is my job. Of course I get all my shots.”

Cas looks at him disapprovingly, most likely for the sarcastic tone, before nudging him into the bathroom. Dean sits on the toilet lid while Cas flips on every light in the bathroom, and they stare at each other for a second in the harsh halogen light.

“Wow, we need a shower,” Dean says. The dirt, blood and sweat caked on their faces is actually kind of disgusting, so he shakes off Cas when he goes to disinfect his wound. 

“Shower first. It’ll get most of this stuff out.” Dean toes off his socks and looks up to Cas standing in front of the tub, doing absolutely nothing.

“Uh,” Dean says. “Unless you want to make this a group activity, I’d appreciate some alone time?” 

Cas takes a step towards him, then another. He’s fully invaded Dean’s personal space, the harsh ceiling light throwing sharp shadows across his face.

“Cas?” Dean licks his lips, a nervous flutter in his chest.

“Dean.” It’s all Cas says, all he ever says, but Dean doesn’t protest when Cas lays his hand on Dean’s cheek for a beat, watches him reach for the seam of Dean’s shirt. He raises his arms and they pull it off together. Dean’s naked chest is almost heaving with the breaths he’s taking.

Dean reaches for the collar of Cas’ shirt, lets his hands roam over Cas’ shoulders, over his chest and starts unbuttoning the shirt. Button by button he reveals tan skin until the shirt falls away. They look at each other, both dirty and speckled with blood, small cuts and beginning bruises here and there. Dean closes his eyes for a moment before stepping over to the tub and turning on the shower. The water sputters before running cool, then warmer. He leaves it be for now, and the sound of a zipper has him turning. 

Cas is half-turned away from him, taking off his ruined slacks and nudging them to the side with his foot. His socks are next, then his briefs. He stands up straight again, watching Dean watch him. There’s trust in his eyes, his expression softened.

Dean can’t _not_ look. Cas is beautiful, strong and broad. His chest is dusted with soft dark hair; then creating a line from his navel that runs down to his soft cock nestled in dark curls. Dean snaps out of his stupor, tears the button of his jeans open and kicks them off. His boxers go last, but he doesn’t hesitate. He’s laid bare for Cas already, has been for a long time, his soul more naked than his body could ever be. He knows Cas has seen it, intimately, and he’s okay with it. For once in his life he’s truly okay with something. 

Dean reaches to feel the water and finds it pleasantly hot. He steps into the tub and pulls the curtain further to the side, extending a hand to Cas. He takes it. The showerhead is big, standing right in front of it they’re both under the hot water, dirt and blood immediately coloring the off-white tub and swirling down the drain. The scent is metallic and nauseating, and Dean reaches past Cas for the tiny shower products. Lavender and honey body wash oozes onto his palm, and before he can second guess himself, he takes Cas’ left arm and glides his hand from wrist to shoulder. The suds cut through the grime and leave it to be rinsed off. Cas watches him, his lips parted slightly, and Dean steps even closer. He leans his forehead against Cas’ as he runs his hands over Cas’ chest, his other arm, his belly. He squats to wash his legs and rises again, his eyes trailing over the miles of wet skin in front of him. 

Cas now picks up the soap and gives Dean the same treatment. His hands are big and warm, leaving goosebumps wherever they roam and he, too, finishes with Dean’s legs, only to stand up again after. As much as Dean has always loved sex, this is a different kind of intimacy. They’re both too hurt, too vulnerable for anything physical to happen between them tonight, and Dean’s more than okay with it. He doesn’t want to push Cas or nudge too hard at the soft pink bubble they’re creating, but contently stands watching as Cas washes between his own legs, Dean’s cock not getting the message and thickening a bit as he gives himself the same treatment under Cas’ watchful eye. 

They take turns repositioning to rinse the soap off, but when they’re done the water’s still hot and divine. Dean shifts incrementally closer to Cas, who closes the gap. Cas’ arms come around Dean’s shoulders, his hands stroking soft circles on Dean’s back. Dean winds his arms around Cas in turn, holding him tight but not too much so. They stay like this, Dean trying to channel his emotions into his touch, hopes Cas understands everything Dean can’t yet say. Cas’ nose is poking into his neck, Dean’s legs are getting tired from working the muscles to hold them both upright safely, but he carries on. 

Eventually, Cas moves. His hands glide down Dean’s arms and come to rest on Dean’s hands, and Dean intertwines their fingers without a thought. He’s looking at Cas, standing so close his chin is tilted slightly. He rests his forehead against Cas’ and their noses bump softly against each other. Cas’ left hand crawls up to rest on the side of Dean’s neck, and he lets the sensation of it flood his heart. 

Cas opens his mouth but says nothing. His lips are parted slightly, eyes focused on Dean, whose gaze flicks to Cas’ lips for a moment. They look at each other, both struggling to blink the water out of their eyes. Cas’ lashes are dark and clumped together, wet and heavy and they’re lowering, Dean’s tilting his head in reply and then their lips are touching. Soft and warm and wet, water running between them on every parting. A hand in Dean’s hair is putting a hold to any and all thought’s in Dean’s mind, and the only thing left is _Cas_. There’s fire that glimmers down to a groundwork warmth, enveloping everything Dean’s feeling. It lays over the ache in his muscles, the pain of his wounds, the agony of his mind. It soothes despite its ability to ignite, choosing this time to heal and comfort. He lets it wash over him fully. 

With a soft intake of breath their lips separate. Dean pulls back slightly to ask Cas if he’s okay, distracted by his red and slightly swollen lips. He opens his mouth to say something, when suddenly cold water is streaming over them. He hurries to shut it off and Cas grabs the too-rough towels from the back of the door. He winds one around Dean’s shoulders and drapes the other over his own. Drenched and now freezing, they stare at each other until Dean laughs. He laughs and he can’t stop, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. He struggles to breathe. Cas doesn’t laugh but watches him lose it with a smile on his face, and Dean calms down long enough to shake his head with a grin. 

Carefully he steps out of the tub and onto the cool tiles, and holds a hand out for Cas, who takes it and loses his smile suddenly.

“Your arm,” he says. “The whole point of showering was to clean the wound.”

“Kinda had some issues with distraction.” 

Dean smirks at Cas’ raised eyebrow and lets himself be led to the sink. Cas tilts his forearm into the light, but the gash is clean and has stopped bleeding. A disapproving noise from Cas and he leaves Dean in the bathroom, his towel dropped on the floor. Dean dries his hair, finger combs it and looks up just as Cas comes back into the bathroom carrying clothes. His skin is still a bit damp, and Dean's eyes follow a water drop that's running down his chest and over his stomach. They get dressed in fresh boxers and sleep clothes, Cas borrowing from Dean, then go to turn on the TV. 

Dean texts Sam an update, tells him they’re okay but need to stay the night. After a thumbs-up emoji Dean puts his phone away, pulls back the covers of his bed and slides between the sheets. He groans as his head hits the pillow and he can relax his muscles. He turns his head and eyes Cas awkwardly sitting on the edge of his own bed. 

“C’mere,” Dean mumbles and Cas doesn’t need a second invitation in the slightest. The mattress creaks as Cas slips in next to him. Dean goes to turn off the bedside lamp but a warm hand on his side stops him from turning back. Cas moves and presses up behind him, guides Dean to lie down and worms his arm around Dean’s middle. 

“You’re alive,” Cas whispers into Dean’s neck, and Dean’s heart shatters. “You’re alive.”

He takes Cas’ hand and squeezes it, intertwines their legs and turns his head slightly to meet Cas’ eyes.

“I am,” Dean says. “And I’ll even forgive you for making me the little spoon.” 

Cas huffs a laugh and noses his neck. “Stop acting like you don’t enjoy it.”

Dean rolls his eyes, burrows his head into the pillow and relaxes. They might be damaged with more baggage than should be possible, but at least they carry it together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!<3
> 
> If you feel up for it leave me a comment, if not no worries! You can find me on social media [here](https://wearingmywings.carrd.co/)! Come talk to me about writing, reading fics, whatever you want to discuss about fandom. I'm also working on doing fic-recs! :)


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